Sam
Reis-Dennis of Eugene, Oregon
On September 11, 2001, I was just beginning the eighth
grade in Eugene, Oregon. I wasn't really sure what to
make of the terrorist attacks. Like many Americans, I
watched a lot of television in the following weeks,
looking for an explanation. I became scared and angry.
When President Bush announced the invasion of
Afghanistan to unseat the Taliban regime that hosted
Osama Bin Laden, it seemed to be a reasonable response.
My parents disagreed. A few days later they dragged me
to an anti-war protest downtown. As I marched with them,
I felt conflicted and confused. The World Trade Center
collapsed! A plane flew into the Pentagon! Didn't this
merit some sort of military response? And the protest
itself wasn't persuasive. While I was never an
especially “pro-war” person, I felt alienated when I saw
a bunch of disheveled hippies chanting “racist, sexist,
anti-gay, US military GO AWAY.”
Entering high school, I started to learn more about
the world. As a member of the high school debate team, I
was given the topic, “Resolved that: The United States
has a moral obligation to mitigate international
conflicts.” Researching the topic gave me an opportunity
to pursue my interest in international relations and US
foreign policy. I stumbled across an extensive list of
US military interventions in foreign countries and was
shocked to see the sheer number of failures. I began to
wonder how the world's most dominant military force
could do so much wrong.
Later that year, when Janjaweed militiamen began to
tear through Darfur with malice and machetes, I was
motivated by my earlier research to follow the crisis. I
was intrigued by these questions: What happens when
genocide erupts overseas? Military intervention has both
failed and succeeded in similar situations, but even if
success was guaranteed, would violence really be the
right response?
As a high school junior, I wrote an article for The
Register-Guard, Eugene's daily newspaper, about foreign
aid, particularly its implementation in Sudan. I
received a positive response from many community
members, among them Beyond War's Executive Director
Gayle Landt. When Gayle asked me if I would write for
Beyond War, I knew it was an opportunity I wanted to
take advantage of.
From my first exposure to the Beyond War philosophy,
I've been pleased with its focus for two key reasons.
First, an advocacy centered on efforts to move the world
beyond violent conflict offers a compelling alternative
to the two basic responses to genocide that I had
encountered previously. The understanding that tacit
consent and military force aren't the only possible
courses of action in an international conflict was an
important one.
The second part of the Beyond War philosophy that I
find especially appealing is the principle that 'we are
all one people' and that we each must learn to avoid
thinking which is focused on an enemy. Gayle explained
that while many liberal organizations mean well, they
have an unfortunate tendency to push away people who
aren't already behind their cause by engaging in
excessive finger pointing and name calling. Immediately,
I was reminded of my protest march experience. The US
military may indeed be “racist, sexist, and anti-gay,”
but to a confused kid, that brazen declaration was
intimidating and unpersuasive. Beyond War makes it a
policy to avoid such practice. By naming names, but not
calling names, I think Beyond War takes a more
convincing approach to critiquing militarism.
Next year, I'll be attending Cornell University in
Ithaca, New York. There, I'll be able to advance my
education and, I hope, my ability to help move the world
beyond war.
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